


Constrained

by dedougal



Series: Corset Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-29
Updated: 2011-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken dare leads to Jared trying on a corset. Then it leads to more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constrained

  
Jared wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into this. No. Actually he was entirely aware of how he had been talked into this. Fucking Misha. Of course, Jared wasn’t about to let him know that the idea of trying on the corset Jared had seen lying on the bed that one time wasn’t something he’d maybe entertained a few thoughts about.

There had been beer. Then Misha produced this scotch he claimed was the best thing Jared would ever taste. Jared was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to mix drinks, but then he remembered that was wine and beer – vine and grain – and he was pretty sure whisky was made with grain. Or something. There had been quite a few beers. It had been a long week. It muddled his thought processes. Jared was smart but after a long week and a not inconsiderable amount of beers and two generous helpings of liquid warmth, he was drifting towards the kind of floating drunk that was a prelude to a fantastic night of sleep and an equally amazing hangover tomorrow.

Jared wriggled, settling the satiny material more comfortably along his sides. It was a long corset, silk from what he could tell, covering Jared from chest to hips. He twisted around trying to settle the back panel. Misha had handed him the dark purple tangle of material and cord with a straight face. As straight as Misha’s face got. There was this wicked inflection in his mouth, always. Even when he was being Castiel. Something naughty.

Jared giggled at the thought of calling Misha naughty. Then he giggled at the face he’d giggled. Yeah.

Jared’s fingers tangled in the cords at the back the first time he tried to tighten it. He could feel his heart beating faster, his chest heaving with excitement. Jared closed his eyes, calming himself before opening them and looking over his shoulder into the mirror again. All he had to do was pull the cords tight. He tightened the grip and started tugging. The material gripped him closer and he could feel the bones of the corset starting to press into his skin. Jared wriggled again, resettling the material along his sides. He tugged at the back panel, desperate to get it to lie smooth, the hide the broad line of his back.

There was a soft noise from the doorway and he looked up to see Misha there. Misha wasn’t laughing. Or giggling. He was actually quite Castiel like, staring intently. Then he was crossing the floor.

“Let me help.” Misha’s voice held an edge of roughness, something that wasn’t just whisky induced. Jared nodded and dropped his hands to his side as Misha smoothed out the cords. Jared could feel the warmth of his hands as he ran them over the material, tracing up Jared’s side. He pulled, sharply. Jared felt the air rush out of him. Then Misha ran his hands up Jared’s side again, keeping the cords pulled tight. “How does it feel?”

Jared looked in the mirror. Even though he knew that the corset couldn’t really give him a waist, he felt slimmer, taller, held in, supported in ways he’d always wanted to find out more about. Misha tied the cords in a tight bow and Jared found himself straightening his shoulders to ease his breathing. Jared couldn’t resist sliding his hands over his hips.

“You’d… It’d be better without the jeans,” Misha said. He hadn’t stepped away. Jared could feel his breath on the back of his neck.

There was a moment of hesitation. A moment where Jared’s brain seemed to re-engage and he realised he was wearing a corset in front of his friend, his colleague. Then the alcoholic fuzz reasserted itself and Jared found himself unbuttoning his loose jeans and letting them drop. He felt ridiculous then, standing in the silk purple with his grey cotton boxers and his jeans around his ankles.

Misha seemed to agree. He snorted out a brief laugh. “I can give you something more suitable.”

Jared met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. Misha shrugged over his shoulder. Jared rolled his head and kicked his jeans off. Then he bent to roll off his socks. The corset made it pretty impossible. It held him straight, in a line. He couldn’t twist, couldn’t roll his body. He’d need to squat in a pretty ungainly way to make it work. Instead Misha dropped gracefully to his knees, without permission or prompting, and held Jared’s ankle in a firm grip.

“Let me.” There was no request, no tentative asking. Instead it was a gentle command, as fixed as the grip on Jared’s skin, long fingers around the narrow part of his leg. Jared laid his palms on the wall on either side of the mirror to steady himself as Misha lifted his foot to help him out of his socks before he rolled smoothly back up to stand behind Jared again. “Now. Are you going to wear what I give you?”

Jared could feel his cock lazily respond to the implied control in Misha’s tone. He had to swallow against a suddenly dry throat and saw Misha’s eyes follow to movement in the mirror. Jared felt exposed, oddly, his shoulders bare above the low sweep of the corset’s neckline. Then Misha was stepping back, away. Jared knew he could look, turn his head and follow Misha’s progress around the room. He could hear drawers opening and Misha muttering. But instead he kept his eyes straight ahead, watching himself in the mirror. He flattened one hand and ran it down the front of the silk, stopping at the edge of the stiff material.

“You should keep your hand there, Jared.” Misha dropped something black to the floor at Jared’s feet. He held a thin string of pearls in one hand. “You wanna?”

Jared had to swallow again before nodding. The string was obviously designed for someone smaller, someone without a neck thick with muscle. Jared felt oddly ashamed of the body he’d worked hard to sculpt. The necklace was tight but it loosened slightly after Misha fastened it. Jared brought his other hand up and ran his fingertips over it. He felt dizzy, disorientated. The person in the mirror was him, sure enough, and not him. Not him at all.

Then there was Misha, placing a hand at the small of Jared’s back, right over where the laces were tight. “You want me to stop? You just have to say.”

“A safeword?” Jared tried to joke. He knew it fell flat. On the other hand, by the way that Misha’s tongue dipped out to moisten his lips, perhaps Misha didn’t want to take it as a joke. Jared could feel his heart racing harder, faster. He met Misha’s eyes in the mirror and even though he knew he was trembling, from fear or arousal or possibly both, he told him, “S’okay.”

Misha smiled, a lazy, slow, intimate smile, eyes half closed and dark. “More than okay.” Jared wasn’t quite sure what he was referring to, but Misha didn’t let him ask, pressing hot palms over the hands Jared hadn’t moved. “Keep them there.”

Fuck. Jared could feel the sweat start to gather under his fingers at his neck. He knew there’d be corresponding heat at his temples, the small of his back. The tops of his thighs. His dick had passed the interested stage and was now moving to the more insistent stage of hard. Definitely hard. Misha walked around Jared, to stand between him and the mirror and then slid down, keeping his eyes on Jared the entire time. Jared couldn’t look away. Misha’s fingers grasped at the unwanted cotton, tugged and Jared felt the air around his cock, his ass. He could also feel the brush of Misha’s hair against his skin as Misha lifted his feet one by one to take the boxers off. It was overwhelming, the sheer power of the sensations. He was tied in tight, his chest bound and squeezed, and then he was naked as well, intimately naked.

Misha picked up the black material that had fallen to the floor earlier. Jared couldn’t see what it was – underwear, he hoped – but he could feel the soft, satin glide over his skin as Misha threaded his feet through holes and tugged it up. Jared took his hand off the necklace and leaned forward, placing his hand on the top of Misha’s head to look down. Misha looked up then, eyes still dark. “What did I say?”

“Keep my hands…” Jared quickly replaced his hand on his chest. Misha nodded his approval but didn’t tease anymore. Well, he brought the loose silky panties up quickly but spent a long time tucking the length of Jared’s cock in under the waistband and ensuring they sat right across his ass. Jared knew he should be embarrassed at the way he could feel gasps and outright moans fall from his lips as Misha smoothed the soft, caressing material closer, moulding it to his body, but Jared just didn’t care.

He could finally see himself in the mirror, eyes bright, hot red flush on his cheeks. His skin was glowing with sweat now, golden. And the corset kept him upright and constrained, unable to bend. Near unable to move, really. Even breathing felt different, shallow.

“Do I win the dare?” he asked, finally turning to Misha, who was back on his feet, swaying towards Jared. Misha who looked as wrecked as Jared did.

“More than.” Misha smiled at him, crooked grin asking something Jared knew he was contemplating quite seriously. He let his own eyes travel down Misha’s body. He was wearing thin black sweat pants, claiming he didn’t need to dress up for Jared anymore. They were friends. Buds. The sweat pants weren’t hiding Misha’s interest.

Jared couldn’t help running his hands over the corset again, smoothing the slightly rough silk where it caught the calluses on his hands before dipping lower to feel the pure satin of the panties. Misha’s eyes followed every move. Jared stepped closer. “Should I stop?”

Jared wasn’t quite sure who moved next, but he was pressed up against the wall by the mirror when they stopped, lips puffy and tender from the way Misha had wrapped his hands in Jared’s hair and used it to direct their movements, their kisses. He could feel Misha’s hard, insistent cock through the thin material of the pants against his own thigh and couldn’t help but press it forward for leverage. Misha stumbled away, suddenly, his own lips as red and slick as Jared reckoned his own must be.

Jared knew his own breathing was ragged and shallow, only partially blaming the corset. He tried to take deeper breaths, to control himself as Misha lowered himself, less gracefully than before, to the floor. He rested his forehead against Jared’s thigh, breathing deeply before opening his mouth and placing sucking kisses over the material now clinging to Jared’s dick. Jared knew his head hit the wall with some force as it reared back but he didn’t feel any pain as Misha sucked the head of his cock through the panties.

He was close. Jared felt like he’d been on a knife edge of coming for days as Misha brought up his long clever fingers and peeled the cloth away, letting Jared bob free. He used one hand to steady Jared’s cock, pointing it towards his lips while his other hand fumbled by his side. Jared’s hips lurched forward, desperate to experience the hot, wet heat of Misha’s mouth.

“Yeah. I want you to,” Misha was saying eyes, looking up through long dark lashes to meet Jared’s. “Do it. Fuck my mouth.” Misha’s arm was making the movements that Jared unmistakably knew to be the signs of someone jerking off. Misha brought the head of Jared’s cock to his mouth and opened wide.

Jared hesitated, stroking his hand down Misha’s cheek, but the offer was too tempting. He thrust forward shallowly, moaning as Misha’s hand dropped to cradle and tug at his balls. Then Misha removed his hands all together, turning complete control over to Jared. Time slowed and sped up. Every thrust seemed to take an eternity, eons punctuated by the flutter of Misha’s throat, the undulation of his tongue, but it seemed like no time at all before Jared was pulling out, come spilling over Misha’s lips, his chin, down his t-shirt. Misha let out a strangled groan, arching up on his knees as he came. Jared looked down at him, completely dressed except for where he’d pulled his cock out of his sweat pants, and felt his dick give a weary twitch.

Misha swayed back then, tired out, eyes fluttering shut. The dizziness was back and all Jared wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep. And Misha had a pretty big bed across the other side of this bedroom.

“Hey,” Jared said. “You need to help me untie this thing. I can’t wear your wife’s corset to bed.”

Misha looked up at him, blinking slowly. “S’not my wife’s.”

Jared wasn’t sure how to take that as he reached out a hand for Misha to grab and pulled him to his feet. He spun around, placing his hands on the wall and stuck out his ass, intending for Misha to unlace the tight cords. Which were starting to get a little uncomfortable. Misha didn’t seem to get the hint, instead smoothing his hands over Jared’s still satin clad ass. Finally he pulled at the knot, loosening off the tight binding and Jared found himself able to breathe deeply again. He had to hold his hands above his head to let Misha pull the tube of material up and off his body.

Misha tossed the corset aside and brought his hand to the clasp of the pearl necklace. Jared spun round, catching his hands before he could unfasten it.

“Leave it. Later.” Jared knew his voice was gravel again. “Bed now?”

Misha rolled forward onto the balls of his feet and rested his forehead against Jared’s slick chest. His tongue dipped out to take a taste. Jared shivered. “Cold?”

“Wet,” Jared replied, before taking control and steering Misha to the bed. “Drunk. Sleepy.” He plucked at Misha’s t-shirt and was glad he took the hint and pulled it off. Jared pawed at the comforter, pulling it down to reveal crisp white sheets. He lay down and watched Misha push the sweatpants off before climbing naked into bed beside him.

Jared’s brain seemed more than happy to switch off and let Misha wrap himself up tight by Jared’s side, holding on tight. There was one thought still pressing before he could allow himself to drift into oblivion. “Misha?”

“Whu?” Misha’s voice was sleep-addled and muffled by Jared’s skin.

“Who does the corset belong to then?” Jared couldn’t work it out.

Misha raised his head, hair even more wrecked now. “It’s mine. But I guess I might let you borrow it permanently.”

Jared let his head fall back on the pillow and his eyes close. That sounded like a plan.


End file.
